The Adventures of Uber Pussy and Detective Sandy Vagina
by dietcocacola101
Summary: Twenty one-shots about the notorious Super Best Friends. Style.
1. My Best Friend, My First, My Everything

**My Best Friend, My First, My Everything**

Stan was taking a creative writing class, if only because he expected to get an easy A. For most of the class, this was not the case because the first unit was poetry. For Stan, this A would be easier than expected. He had dished out poem after poem for Wendy when he was younger and he knew he could do it again, even if Wendy was out of the picture. As long as Stan had a muse, he could write a poem.

Little did Stan know that his poetry was not good. It was worse than 'not good'. His poems were embarrassing, really. The only thing keeping him from total humiliation was that Stan wasn't aware of how truly horrendous his poems were.

Then, one day, Kyle came over after school so they could do their homework together. Kyle was Stan's boyfriend, his best friend, his continuous source for inspiration. Therefore, Kyle was the only person that Stan dared to do his poetry homework in front of.

Stan hadn't been working on it for more than five minutes when Kyle looked up from his AP Calc book and asked, "What's that?"

"A poem. It's for my creative writing class," Stan replied, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Oh yeah? You should write it about me," Kyle said.

"They're all about you."

Kyle cocked an eyebrow at him. "You have more?"

"Yeah, dude, I have _loads_ more," Stan said excitedly and began to rifle through his binder. "Here, this one is already graded, but have a look."

Kyle notice the big, fat C- at the top and, upon reading it, came to the conclusion that Stan's teacher had been too generous with her grading. He opened his mouth to tell Stan this, but stopped when he saw the look on his boyfriend's face. Stan's eyes were shining, his lips pulled up into a large grin, and he was eagerly awaiting Kyle's feedback. Kyle firmly believed that honesty was the best policy, but he didn't have the heart to tell Stan that a monkey with a typewriter could write better poetry than this.

"It's – it's good, Stan," Kyle lied. Stan beamed at him.

"Really? You think so?"

"Yeah, I like it."

"That's great! Mrs. Mendhol thinks my poetry needs work, but if _you_ like it, who cares what she thinks, right?" Stan asked and began rummaging through his binder for more poems to show Kyle.

"Well, uh, you should always strive to be better," Kyle said quickly.

"Right. Yeah, I know and I will. But, dude, you have no idea how _relieved_ I am that you like the poem. I was so worried that you would hate it," he confessed.

_Of course I hate it. Who in their right mind would _like_ that garbage?_ Kyle thought to himself. He would never say that to Stan, though. Stan was looking at him with too much _adoration._ And, even if the poems were terrible, Stan _had_ written every single one about him.

Kyle very nearly grimaced when he read Stan's other poems, only stopping himself to keep from hurting Stan's feelings. Despite his better judgment, Kyle gave Stan a smile and a thumb's up regarding the poems, and returned to his AP Calc homework as quickly as possible. The rest of the study session was relatively painless. When Kyle finally got up to leave (his mother would castrate him if he was late for dinner), Stan shoved all seven of the poems into Kyle's hands.

"Here."

"No, Stan, I couldn't. They're your –"

"I want you to have them," Stan insisted. "Besides, I can always write more."

Kyle bit his lip, holding back a grimace. Finally, he said, "Thanks."

When Kyle got home, the first thing he did was shove the poems into an empty shoebox and hide the shoebox in the back of his closet. Hopefully, Stan's poem kick would pass quickly and he wouldn't have to even think about them ever again.

* * *

It was just Kyle's luck. Of course he would open his locker the next morning and find a poem in Stan's handwriting inside. He hurriedly shoved it in his backpack before anyone saw it. He didn't want Kenny, or even worse, Cartman, to ask, "What's that?" and pry it from his hands. Kenny would laugh his ass off. Cartman would make copies and hang them up all over the school.

It was _definitely_ a smart idea to hide the poem.

At lunch, Stan took Kyle to Whistlin' Willy's in his truck. Only seniors were allowed to leave campus for lunch, but Stan was able to, despite only being a junior. This was because Coach Moriarty made damn sure that his star quarterback was able to do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Kyle was perched in the passenger seat, finishing his crust and wiping his greasy fingers on his pants when Stan dropped the bombshell,

"So, what did you think of the poem?"

"I, uh, I-I-" Kyle fumbled for words. If he said he read it, then Stan would want to talk about it. Maybe it would be better to just come clean. "I didn't get a chance to read it yet."

"Oh? Why not?"

_Just tell him the truth, damn it. Tell him his poems suck ass._

"There was a bunch of people around, dude. I wanted to read it in private."

"Why?"

_Because it's embarrassing. Just spit it out, Kyle._

"The poems are special. Intimate, if you will. I didn't think it would be right to read it with all those people around that like that."

_Great. Not only did you chicken out, now you sound like a total pussy._

Stan, however, ate it right up. "Aw, ya mean it?"

"Of course."

Jesus Christ, when did Stan get so gullible?

"Okay, well, tell me when you do read it. I want to hear what you think," Stan said, and then announced that they should be getting back to school before Kyle could reply.

Kyle made sure not to read the poem where anyone could see. He ended up reading it while taking a dump after seventh period. He talked about it with Stan on the way home from school and pretended he loved it. When he got home, he stuffed the poem in the shoebox and prayed he wouldn't get another one the next day, although he knew he would.

This went on for three weeks.

Finally, Kyle couldn't take it any more. He wished Chef was still alive. Chef would know what to do. Kyle ended up seeking out Kenny, instead. He had to sneak by Stan's house and across the railroad tracks to get to the poor boy's home. He knocked on the door and Kenny answered, eyeing the shoebox tucked under Kyle's arm.

"What's up with the shoes? Is your mom raising awareness for poor people or something?" he asked.

"No, no shoes. It's just the box. Can I come in? I don't want Stan to see me," Kyle said.

"Why not? Are you guys fighting?" Kenny asked, stepping aside so Kyle could come inside.

"No. It's, uh, complicated. Can we go up to your room or something?"

Kenny looked at him strangely and then led Kyle up to his room without a word. He collapsed on the bed and it groaned under his weight.

"Are you sure that's safe?" Kyle gestured to the bed.

"It's fine. What's in the box?"

Kyle sighed and dumped the contents onto Kenny's floor.

"Are those –?"

"Poems, Kenny. Poems that Stan wrote…about me," he explained.

"That's sweet, I guess. But did you really have to come all the way over here and show me? That's a little...girly," Kenny told him.

"No, dude, the poems…they're bad. Like, really bad."

Kenny's eyes lit up. "Really? Let me see!"

"Don't be malicious, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just let me see!"

"I mean it," Kyle said, blocking the poems with his body. "I didn't come here for you to make fun of Stan. I came here for you to help me."

"I can't help you if you don't let me read the poems, asshole!"

Kyle sighed in defeat and put all the poems on the edge of Kenny's bed. The blonde boy took his time reading each and every poem. When he was finished, he very seriously said to Kyle: "I'm so sorry."

"That's it?" he asked. "You're not going to make fun of me?"

Kenny shook his head in disgust. "No, dude. This shit…isn't even funny. I thought they would be funny bad, but they're bad bad. Depressingly bad. Embarrassingly bad."

"I know. What can I do? How can I get him to stop giving them to me?" Kyle asked.

"_Ahem._"

Kyle and Kenny turned to face the voice. It belonged to Stan, who was standing in the doorway. Kyle paled.

"S-Stan. How long have you been standing there?" the redhead asked nervously.

"Long enough," Stan replied. He then stomped out of Kenny's house, Kyle trailing behind him and spitting out apologies left and right. Stan reached his house and had to pause to open the door, giving Kyle a chance to grab onto his jacket.

"Stan, please –"

"Leave me alone," he said and slammed the door in Kyle's face.

Feeling like utter shit, Kyle Broflovski trudged home. To make things worse, he found another poem on his bed, with the words "FOR KYLE" written neatly on the top:

_My Best Friend, My First, My Everything_

_You are the one thing that is safe and familiar._

_And, for some reason, you're still here._

_To me, the angels did send_

_you, my best friend._

_x_

_Glimpsing your lopsided smile_

_makes everything okay for a while._

_My heart would burst_

_without you, my first._

_x_

_You have saved me in so many ways,_

_and you are my always._

_I would do anything_

_for you, my everything._

* * *

Kyle was freezing his ass of at the bus stop the next morning when Stan pulled up in his truck. Kyle stared at Stan. Stan stared right back. Finally, Stan broke the tension and asked,

"Are you going to get in or what?"

The other boy nodded. He got into the passenger seat and carefully shut the door behind him.

"Thanks," he said.

Stan nodded stiffly and began to drive again. He hadn't driven more than a minute or two when Kyle said,

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Stan asked. "Lying to me? Making fun of me behind my back? Being embarrassed of me?"

"Yeah," Kyle said.

The rest of the drive to school was silent. Kyle could hardly stand it. The tension was killing him. Was Stan still mad?

"Are we okay?" Kyle asked once Stan had parked his truck.

"No. You hurt my feelings," the other boy replied.

"Don't be such a –" Kyle stopped himself from saying the word 'pussy' by pretending to have a coughing fit. Stan glared at him. "I didn't mean to. I lied about the poems to avoid that."

"That worked out great, didn't it?" Stan said sarcastically. He got out of the truck and, when Kyle followed suit, locked it and disappeared into a crowd of his football buddies, leaving Kyle alone.

"He's really pissed, huh?" Kenny asked, miraculously appearing at Kyle's side.

"Yeah. He slammed the door in my face yesterday. He's never done that before!" Kyle said and then sighed. "I don't know how to make it up to him."

"Just wait it out. You and Stan will make up soon. You always do," Kenny replied

"Yeah, but –" He shook his head. "Never mind."

How could he explain that this was different from their normal fights? Usually, it's just that: a fight. Kyle is pissed at Stan, and Stan is pissed at Kyle. This time, Stan was the only one who was mad, because Kyle fucked up. He _had_ to make it up to him and he knew just how to do it.

* * *

"You're taking fucking forever. I almost left without you," Stan said as he approached Kyle's locker at the end of the day. Kyle was slowly and carefully putting books into his locker. Stan bit back a groan. The little asshole was being slow on purpose.

"I'll be there in a minute," Kyle said. He made no effort to put his books away any faster.

Stan could tell right away that Kyle was acting strange. For example, Kyle's locker was wide open. Kyle _never_ had his locker wide open. He pet his locker door secluded and hidden because, according to him, it was no one else's damn business what he had in his locker. Today, he was practically flaunting it and Stan soon figured out why.

Among the other pictures that donned Kyle's locker (Kyle and his family at Kyle's bar mitzvah, a young Kyle holding a baby Ike, twelve-year-olds Stan, Kenny, and Kyle at Stark's Pond, Stan and Kyle at the big game last year, Stan's junior year yearbook photo) was Stan's most recent poem. It had been smoothed out and carefully taped to the locker door, as if damaging it was some kind of crime.

"I thought you hated my poetry," Stan said.

"I do," Kyle replied and then hurried to correct himself, "I mean, the poetry itself could use a little work, but I like that you wrote it for me. That was really thoughtful and I was selfish for being embarrassed. So," he gestured to the poem taped to his locker door. "I'm proving to you that I'm not embarrassed any more. I learned my lesson today. I'll let anyone who wants to read that God awful poem."

"Hey! It's not that bad! It's my favorite," Stan pouted.

Kyle grinned. "Mine, too. It's a little better than the others. I think you're improving."

"Really? You're not just saying that so I'll forgive you?"

"You mean you haven't forgiven me yet? But I put your stupid poem in my locker!" Kyle teased. Stan tried to be angry, but his lips twitched into a smile.

"I wrote that stupid poem for you, smartass," Stan replied. "Don't be a dick."

"I know," Kyle said and gently shut his locker.

He didn't know why, but, although the poem was a piece of crap, he couldn't bear the thought of something happening to it.

* * *

**A/N: Damn, Kyle is bad at apologizing. Oh well. It all worked out in the end, I guess. Anyway, I hope this one-shot isn't nearly as bad as I think it is. I hope you enjoyed it, at least. Let me know what you think of it! -Rachel**


	2. Until Now

**Until Now**

It all started with Cartman's claim that Kyle was bitchy.

Kyle, of course, thought this was preposterous. He was opinionated. He was strong-willed. He was not bitchy.

Cartman didn't understand how Kyle could not see it. How could Kyle be so oblivious to what was right there in front of him? Kyle was, according to Cartman, truly his mother's son. He had the same big nose, the same pissy attitude as Sheila Broflovski. They both got worked up over little things and held grudges and were bitchy Jews. What Stan saw in the irritating kike was beyond him.

Cartman decided to exploit Kyle's bitchiness at senior prom. Not only could he let Kyle know how annoying he was, but he could humiliate him at prom. It would be perfect.

So, Cartman began to keep a video camera safely tucked away in his backpack and would whip it out whenever Kyle would get worked up about something. Occasionally, Kenny would wonder _why_ Cartman was videotaping Kyle, but he would distract Kenny with food and tell him to shut his poor mouth.

Eventually, finally, the video was ready. All the editing and hard work was finished. Prom was in a week's time and he was all set to humiliate Kyle.

This _totally_ made up for him not having a date.

* * *

Kyle was in a good mood. He had made damn sure of this, too, because he was determined to have a good time tonight. Kyle didn't care if Cartman called him every version of cock sucking Jew he could think of or if Wendy flirted with Stan all night or if the goddamn gym caught fire. He was going to have fun and he was going to _like_ it.

Stan picked Kyle up late, yet he didn't complain. Instead, he listened to Stan bitch about being nominated for prom king the entire ride there. He even let Stan park where he wanted, despite it being in the way back with no lights and a high possibility that they would get mugged or kidnapped.

Kyle was going to be on his best behavior that night. Normally, he wouldn't bother (it was just a stupid dance), but this was the first school event that Stan had gone to with a date that wasn't Wendy. Kyle wanted to make sure he didn't regret it.

"Are you coming?" Stan asked. He had already gotten out of the car and was waiting for Kyle to do the same.

"Yeah," he called back. He began to get out of the car and promptly fell. He bashed the passenger seat door into the car next to them, leaving a huge dent, and face planted onto the pavement.

He heard Stan stifle a laugh and then rush to his side. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Kyle grunted, getting to his feet.

"Dude, that was funny as hell," Stan said and began to laugh.

"Shut up! No, it wasn't!"

"Except it was."

"It was not! My face fucking _hurts_ now!"

"Aw, want me to kiss it, princess?"

"You won't be kissing any part of me if you keep that up," Kyle said, sticking his nose in the air. He was being difficult and he knew it, but his face _did_ hurt and he wanted sympathy, damn it.

"Did I hurt your feelings, Princess Kyle?"

"You're an ass, Stan."

Kyle began to walk towards the school without his date, but Stan quickly caught up to him. Kyle let Stan hold his hand, despite still being annoyed with hi, because he reminded himself that he was supposed to be doing his good boy routine.

The gymnasium was hot, the food was bad, and the music was terrible, but both Stan and Kyle were having a good time, against all odds. They mocked the couples that were grinding against each other, drank their weight in fruit punch, and slow danced to every soft song, just to piss Wendy off. Then, it was time to announce Prom King and Queen.

Wendy strutted onto the stage and waved the envelope around dramatically. Both Kyle and Stan rolled their eyes.

"It is time to announce this year's Prom King and Queen," Wend said. She opened the envelope. "Our Queen is…Bebe Stevens! And our King is…Stanley Marsh." She didn't sound nearly as enthusiastic when she announced Stan's name as she had been about Bebe. Stan was even less enthusiastic.

"Goddamn it! I knew this would happen! Fuck. _Fuck!_"

"Dude, you'd better go up there. Your crown and sash await you," Kyle mocked him.

Stan trudged up to the stage and mumbled a "Thanks" when Wendy forced the crown and sash onto him.

"I have one more announcement before I let you go back to your dates. Our very own Eric Cartman has set up a video presentation for you all to watch tonight. If you will give Eric your attention for just a few moments while the video is being set up," Wendy announced and gestured to Cartman, who was hauling his fat ass up the stairs to the stage. He took the microphone from Wendy and said,

"I spent weeks and weeks on this video to have it ready in time for tonight. It is dedicated to my good friend, Kyle," Cartman gestured to Kyle in the crowd "You all know Kyle, don't you? Time and time again, I have tried to convince him that he is just as crotchety as his bitch mother, but to no avail. So, I thought, what better way to convince him than to show him? Start the video, please, Wendy."

At first, Kyle was furious. Then, he was shocked. Then, horrified. He watched himself scream and get worked up and throw fits for four minutes before he fled the gymnasium.

Both Cartman and Stan ran after him, but for entirely different reasons.

Cartman didn't want to miss Kyle's humiliation. He wanted to rub his victory in Kyle's ugly face. He wanted to ruin Kyle's senior prom.

Stan wanted to make sure his best friend was all right. He hoped to somehow salvage their fun night. Stan had been on his best behavior all night, so Kyle wouldn't feel second to Wendy. Not that Kyle had ever been second to Wendy. Even when Stan still had a thing for his on-again, off-again girlfriend, he always put Kyle first.

"You asshole, Cartman," Stan said as he and the boy in question wandered the school in search of their Jew. "You've ruined his whole night."

"That was kind of the plan," Cartman shot back.

It seemed like Stan and Cartman had searched the entire school before they finally found Kyle sitting on the front steps.

"Did you like my video, Kahl?" Cartman mocked, purposely pronouncing Kyle's name wrong.

"Leave him alone," Stan snapped and turned to Kyle. "Hey, Ky, don't worry about what people thi –"

"They were laughing at me, Stan," Kyle said. Something about his voice seemed odd. Cartman leaned forward to see what it was and when he leaned back, he looked like Christmas had come early.

"Jesus tap dancing Christ!" Cartman cried gleefully. "I'll be right back with my camera, Kahl. Don't stop crying!"

Cartman bolted back into the school. Stan stared at Kyle in disbelief. As hard as Kyle tried not to cry, a few tears leaked out.

"They weren't laughing at you –"

"Yes, they were," Kyle cut him off. "And they should. I would laugh at me, too."

"I'm confused," Stan admitted.

"Did you see me on that video, Stan? Did you see the way I acted?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So, why do you put up with me? Why does anybody? How the _fuck_ do I have friends when I act like a jackass all the time?"

"You don't act like…_that_ all the time, Ky! Not even usually," Stan argued.

Kyle ignored Stan's last statement and took a shaky breath. "Have you ever taken a look at yourself, like in the mirror or something, and hated what you saw?"

"No," Stan admitted.

"Neither have I," Kyle said. "Until now."

"Come on…don't you think you're overreacting a little?" Stan asked.

"Of course I am, Stan. That's what I do. I overreact. I throw a fit. I get fucking sand in my vagina for no reason." Kyle put his head in his hands.

Stan didn't know what to say, so he sat down next to Kyle on the front steps and rubbed his back until he calmed down. He desperately wanted to comfort Kyle, but no comforting words came to mind.

Suddenly, Stan was reminded of a time, many years ago, when his idiot father thought that buying Blockbuster was a good idea and ended up frozen in the snow. His mom hadn't insisted that Randy come home, but rather left him frozen in the snow and even brought him food. Stan didn't understand why back then, but he did now. His mom was a smart lady. She knew that Randy needed to be alone so he could work things out by himself. The same thing applied here.

Stan stood up and patted Kyle's shoulder. "I'll leave you here for a while, to think."

"Cartman will be back soon," he murmured, "with a video camera."

"I'll take care of Cartman. Don't worry," Stan reassured him.

"Thanks."

Stan turned to leave, but stopped when he remembered one more thing his mother had done that night. "Hey, Ky?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want me to bring you some McDonald's?"


	3. Stan's Foot Feetish

**Stan's Foot Feetish**

"Can I – can I play with it?"

"_Again,_ Stan? Really?"

"Please? It'll only be for a few minutes."

Kyle groaned and shook his head in disbelief. "You're unbelievable."

Stan grinned. "Is that a yes?"

"Whatever, freak. Just be quick."

Beaming, Stan leaned down and removed Kyle's sock. He waited until the redhead wasn't paying attention and then he removed his other sock.

"Hey!" Kyle cried. "I never said you could do both!"

"I won't! I'll only do one. I just want to look at the other one."

Kyle rolled his eyes and then went back to his book.

It certainly was a strange day for Kyle when he found out his boyfriend had a foot fetish. It was such a shock because Stan had always been so normal. Now, the two boys couldn't hang out alone together without Stan wanting to touch Kyle's feet.

That particular day, Kyle got curious about just how much the raven-haired boy loved his feet. He looked up from his book (Nancy Drew) and asked,

"Uh, Stan?"

"Mm?" the other boy hummed. He was rubbing Kyle's foot with one hand and stroking it with the other all while he sniffed it, inhaling Kyle's foot smell. Kyle was sorry to admit that this was the most sexual thing Stan had ever done to him.

"Do you love my feet more than me?"

"Don't be stupid, Kyle. Of course not."

"But my feet are your favorite feature of mine, right?

"I love all of your features!"

"Then why don't you pay attention to my other…parts?"

"Your feet are the most interesting."

Kyle saw red. "What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean? Is my face not _interesting_ enough for you? Does my ass lack interest, Stan? What about my dick? You love cock, _so come get some!_"

Stan gaped at him. Kyle was still angry, but he felt satisfied, too. He _finally_ got Stan to stop paying attention to his fucking _feet._ Stan cleared his throat awkwardly and then advanced on Kyle.

"What are you doing?" Kyle asked.

"I'm coming to get some cock," Stan replied, struggling to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"Fuck you." Kyle shoved a laughter-ridden Stan away from him.

"Oh, come on, that was _funny._"

"I hate you."

Stan cuddled up next to his fuming best friend. "No, you don't," he pouted.

"No, I don't," Kyle agreed with a sigh. "But you know what I do hate right now?"

"What's that?"

"My feet." He wiggled his toes for emphasis. "I'm going to cut them off and sell them for the highest bidder on eBay."

"Don't cut off your feet, Kyle," Stan said. "And besides, who would buy your feet?"

"I dunno. Cartman?"

"No way. If you cut off your feet, _I'm_ buying them."

"What if Cartman outbids you?"

"Then I'd steal them from him."

Kyle huffed in frustration. What for? So you can fulfill your sick pleasures without my," he wrinkled his nose at the word that Cartman used to describe his dialogue, "_yapping?_"

"No," the other boy replied.

"Then what for?"

"I'd sew your feet back on. Then I'd put you on suicide watch and keep you away from sharp objects."

Kyle rolled his eyes, trying (and failing) to fight the grin that was overcoming his face.

"I'm sorry I pissed you off. I should have, um, chosen my words more carefully," Stan admitted. "But I honestly thought you would understand."

"Understand what?" Kyle asked, clenching and unclenching his fingers around the spine of his book.

"That I love every part of you – from head to toe."

Kyle groaned. "Oh, my God, Stan, that was the worst fucking pun you've ever made. Never say that again."

Stan was too busy having a fit of laughter at his own hilarity to notice Kyle putting his socks back on. Once Stan regained control over himself, he asked,

"So, does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"Yes. But stop staring at my feet so often or I'll start staring at your crotch all the time and see how _you_ like it!"

Stan chuckled and pulled Kyle close. "Fair enough. But you were right about one thing."

"Of course I was. I'm always right."

"There are some parts of you I've been neglecting," Stan said to Kyle and then kissed him.


	4. Stan Is

**Stan Is…**

Stan is eleven when he and Wendy decide to call it quits again. This time, it is a mutual agreement.

"I don't know, Wendy, I'm just…not feeling it any more."

"I understand. You're a great guy, but I just see you as more of a friend. And I was thinking about giving Token another chance…"

He spent his entire middle school career single. It is unnerving at first. Stan has never been broken up with Wendy for so long. Wendy spent middle school dating Token, Bradley, and finally, Cartman. This is the reason that, to Kyle's delight, Stan and Kyle spent a majority of their eighth grade year ignoring their fat friend.

Stan is fourteen when he takes Wendy back.

Everyone warns him not to do it, Kyle especially ("Do you really want to kiss a mouth that _Cartman_ has kissed? That's almost like kissing Cartman and that's fucking _gross._ You'll be dating a fat ass kisser!"), but Stan takes Wendy back, anyways. He has missed her and he is lonely. Besides, Wendy is safe. Familiar.

The two date all throughout high school in one long stretch. No breaks or brief break-ups for them any more.

Wendy has sex with Stan for the first (and last) time at his graduation party. It is the greatest day of his life so far. Two weeks later, Wendy dumps Stan for Cartman.

Stan is eighteen and he spends the summer working at Whistlin' Willy's and playing videogames with Kyle in his underwear. He can't remember how many times Cartman took Wendy to eat at Whistlin' Willy's just to rub their relationship in his face. He also can't remember if he and Kyle ever played videogames with their pants _on._

In the fall, Stan goes to Denver University to study architecture and Kyle goes to Northwestern to get his writing degree.

Stan is nineteen. He is two months into his first semester at college when he notices a familiar face in his algebra class. He acknowledges the overweight girl with the heavy make-up who sits in the very back and never talks.

"Henrietta? Is that you?"

She smirks at him. "Hey, Raven."

"What are you doing here? I thought I was the only South Park graduate who went to school here."

This seems unlikely but is true. Everyone else was either like Kyle and was able to go to college far away or like Kenny and were too poor or stupid to attend college at all.

"I'm only here to get my bitch of mother off my back. I don't know why college is so damn important to her. I never even show up."

Stan immediately feels better about not noticing Henrietta: it isn't because he is an insensitive dickhole, but because she hasn't been here to notice.

Before he knows what he's doing, Stan is asking her out for coffee. From what he remembers, coffee is a Goth requirement.

"Fuck that. I want to get wasted. If you buy me enough drinks, I might forget that you're a jock conformist," Henrietta says.

That night, Stan and Henrietta use their fake IDs (because what kid doesn't have one?) to buy drinks and get hammered. Henrietta holds her liquor much better than Stan, and when they have wild, hot sex in her dorm, he barely remembers it the next morning.

This goes on for a few weeks. Stan thinks Henrietta is his girlfriend until he finds out that she has sex with anyone who buys her things. She has several other guys wrapped around her finger: a Coffee Guy, a Cigarette Guy, a Music Guy, and so on. Stan is her Beer Guy.

He stops hanging around with Henrietta after that. He gets drunk with his roommate, his college buddies, and, eventually, by himself.

Stan loves to drink. Looking back at his freshman year in college, he remembers being drunk for most of it.

Summer comes and Stan goes back to South Park. He reunites with Kyle and Kenny (both of whom he has missed terribly) and finds out that Wendy is still with Cartman. For some reason, this depresses the hell out of him. He drinks his problems away that summer. One day, in August, he shows up at Kyle's house, shitfaced. He begins to cry and moan about how he will be alone forever. Then, he pisses his pants and passes out on the front lawn. He goes back to school and his grades start to tank.

Stan is twenty when he starts attending AA meetings.

Things go well at first. Stan wants to be clean and turns his life around. Then, he has a bad day and relapses. He quits again and relapses again. Again and again.

Stan is twenty-one when his mother checks him into a rehabilitation center.

"I really want you to try this time, Stanley."

"I try every time."

"I mean it. I want this to be the first and last time I ever check you into this place."

"It will be."

"It'd better be. And none of this 'I can have a drink or two if I can control it' crap. You're going cold turkey and that's final."

"_Okay,_ ma!'

Stan reemerges three months later and he is his old self again. He goes back to college and makes new friends. One of his new friends is Gary Harrison.

It turns out Gary is in a band (Stan thinks that all those family jam sessions must have paid off, but he keeps this to himself) and he used to play in the bar that Stan would get wasted at. Gary told Stan he's glad that he's sober now.

"It's really amazing how you've turned your life around," Gary chirps in that upbeat manner of his.

"Whatever, man. All I know is that I'm finally old enough to drink legally, but instead, I have to go to fucking AA every weekend," Stan said and then snorted, "Talk about the shortest downward spiral ever."

"That's a _good_ thing, Stan. That means you have people in your life who care about you and you have enough sense to listen to them."

Stan finds himself hanging out with Gary more and more often. Gary doesn't like beer and always invites Stan to do things with him: camping, fishing, swimming, etc. Stan usually accepts, unless he has homework to catch up on.

After a while, Stan begins to notice that Gary seems to really like being close to him. His friend often asks Stan things like if he wants his back rubbed or if he needs help in whatever they're doing. At first, he assumed it is just Gary's Mormon niceness shining through, but then he begins to think the blonde may have un-friend like feelings for him.

This doesn't freak Stan out as much as it should. In fact, what freaks Stan out the most is how _not_ freaked out he is by the situation. He even finds himself hoping Gary will find excuses to touch him.

Stan is twenty-two when he and Gary start dating.

Things go smoothly all year. Stan is happier in the short time with Gary than he ever was with Wendy. Stan and Gary both graduate from Denver University and go back to South Park for the summer.

Stan is nervous about telling his family he's gay. Gary won't admit it, but he's nervous, too. Stan can't see why, though – Gary's family are the nicest people in town.

"Gays aren't exactly _accepted_ in the Mormon religion, Stan," Gary explains when Stan asks him about it.

"So? Gays aren't accepted in my religion, either! I'm more worried about my dad and my sister than I am about God, to be honest."

This makes Gary laugh.

Their families are both fine with it, more or less. The Harrisons just want Gary to be happy (and they still adore Stan) and the Marshes don't care who Stan dates as long as they keep the PDA to a minimum. The citizens of South Park aren't quite as accepting, however, which makes them both eager to leave.

A lot of moving around and frustrating job searches land Stan and Gary in New York for a while. By some miracle, Stan gets a large architecture job and Gary teaches at a high school not far from their apartment. Living in the city is amazing, but short lived. After about a year, Gary misses his family and the two move back to Colorado. Except Stan desperately doesn't want to live in South Park again, so they find a nice apartment in Denver. In a way, it's perfect because Gary is close to his family, yet the pair are far enough away from their hometown to be spared from its craziness. The people are friendly and there are mediocre jobs for the both of them and Stan likes it there.

Stan is twenty-four when he suggests marriage to Gary.

It all starts in the bedroom. It is nearly their three-year anniversary and the two still haven't had sex, although, on Stan's part, it isn't from lack of trying.

"Gary, come on…please? For me?"

"No. We've had this conversation a hundred times."

"But –"

"Mormons don't have sex before marriage. You know that."

"Then let's get married."

Gary pauses.

"We could do it," Stan pushes. "We could even have a really big wedding and everyone we've ever met."

"My parents would be delighted," Gary admits.

"So would mine…I think. We don't even have to go back to South Park –"

"What's wrong with South Park?"

"Well, nothing, I guess. Okay, fine, we can get married in our hometown. Our moms will have a field day planning it," Stan says. "So, what do you say? Want to get married?"

Gary smiles warmly at him and replies, "No."

Stan gapes at him. "_What?_ Is this a joke?"

"No," Gary answers and gets out of bed. He paces the room with a disturbed look on his face.

"What the hell is the matter with you? Why don't you want to marry me?" Stan asks angrily.

"I do want to marry you, one day. But I want you to want to marry me – to really, _really_ want to – and not just for sex."

Stan groans. "Gary, I was joking! I was joking about the whole marriage thing, too, but now that I _really_ think about it…I want to."

"No, you don't," Gary says swiftly.

"Yes, I do!" Stan argues. He gets out of bed as well.

"I want to wait to have sex and get married. I want to wait until we're ready."

"Ready? I'm ready! I'm nearly thirty, for Christ's sake!"

"I know, but –" He shakes his head. "No, it'll sound stupid."

"It won't sound stupid. Just tell me."

Gary explains that he wants them to be emotionally and spiritually connected before they really commit to anything.

"We can be connected and still have sex," Stan grumbles under his breath.

Gary just smirks and suggests that they go back to bed.

Stan is twenty-six when disaster strikes.

Over the summer, Gary takes Stan up to his brother, Mark's lake house. Mark's wife, Vanessa, and their small army of children are there as well. When Stan first started dating Gary, Gary's family's constant niceness unnerved him, but after four years, he had gotten more than used to it.

After about a week, Mark wants to take Gary and Stan out on his boat. Stan doesn't want to go. As a child, he crashed a boat into a beaver dam and spent an afternoon on a goddamned boat because he wanted a free iPod. Stan has not had any good experiences with boats.

However, Gary convinces Stan that it will be fun, and Stan gets on the boat with Gary and Mark. The men lounge around on the lake with their sodas and guy talk as the sun beats down on them. After a while, Stan suggests that they swim in the lake. The other two agree and all three strip off their shirts.

Gary and Stan lean over the edge in preparation to jump just as Mark rushes to put their drinks away and rocks the boat. Gary and Stan lurch forward and plummet into the water. Stan hears Gary scream right before he goes under. He feels Gary go limp next to him and thrashes about underwater, trying to find the surface.

Suddenly, Stan can't feel Gary any more and he hits his head on the underside of the boat every time he tries to reach the surface. Panic wells up in his chest. He can't find Gary and he is going to drown –

A hand clutches Stan's arm and pulls him out from under the boat. He is hoisted above the water and onto the deck of the boat by Mark. He coughs and sputters for a bit until he regains his breath and becomes aware of his surroundings. Mark is steering the boat towards the shore and talking urgently into his cell phone. Stan notices a pool of blood next to him on the deck.

"Gary!" Stan cries out. The blonde's stomach and left thigh were torn up and gruesome. Gary is pale and weak and moans softly when Stan clutches his hand. He wants to say something comforting and reassuring, but all Stan can do is fight back the bile in his throat. Blood and sick people and anything hospital-related still makes him sick.

"What happened?" he chokes out, but only after he squeezes his eyes shut and blocks out what is happening.

"Gary hit the propellers when you both fell off the boat," Mark explains shakily.

"But he – he'll be okay, right?" Stan asks hopefully.

Mark is perky and happy-go-lucky and he is supposed to tell Stan that Gary will be perfectly fine, only he doesn't. Instead, Mark says, "I'm not sure, Stan. He lost a lot of blood."

Stan doesn't reply. He stays hunched over Gary and holds his hand until they reach the shore, which takes much longer than Stan expects. The ambulance is already there when they arrive (Mark called Vanessa and told her to call 9-1-1). However, Gary dies in the ambulance on the way to the hospital and Stan doesn't know what to do.

The funeral is held back in South Park. Stan had never seen the Harrisons so miserable. At the wake, Mark pulls him aside and assures him that Gary's death wasn't his fault.

"I wanted to go swimming," Stan argues miserably.

"And I wanted to go out on the boat in the first place," Mark points out.

"That's not fair. You didn't know –"

"And neither did you," he interrupts, "so stop beating yourself up over it. Gary wouldn't have wanted that."

"I know," Stan agrees, but he still feels awful. He hasn't felt this terrible since he was ten and saw everything as shit. Gary had been the optimistic one in the relationship and had, quite literally, been Stan's better half. Now Gary was gone and he was stuck with himself – the sucky half.

Stan's mother invited him to live at home for a while and he did, but moved back to his old job and apartment in Denver after a month or two. It is strange being back home because he is reminded more than ever of the absence of Gary. It's weird sleeping in the bed Gary had slept in or driving by the high school Gary previously worked at or getting lunch at the pizza place that used to be Gary's favorite.

Stan doesn't know why he isn't more upset about Gary dying. Sometimes, he'll see something around town that will remind him of his dead lover and suddenly find that he can't breathe or he'll be lying in bed at night and will get hit with a wave of depression so strong that he'll curl up under the blankets and shiver until morning, without a wink of sleep. But other than that, he's totally fine.

After almost a year since Gary's passing, a group of Stan's friends get together and convince him that he's an idiot and he's in denial. They push him to go to therapy and he agrees, if only to get them off his back. He is surprised when it actually helps.

Stan still misses Gary terribly, but he's starting to move on and live for himself. He looks at other people without feeling guilty.

Stan is twenty-eight when he comes back to South Park for his high school reunion.

He didn't want to go at first, but was too curious to see how his classmates' lives turned out to stay away. He really hopes he isn't the most pathetic person there.

Unfortunately for him, all of his former classmates had heard about Gary and 90% of them only come to talk to him out of pity. There were a few that didn't, however. Cartman wanted to rub it in his face that he was _very_ rich (Cartman is the CEO of some huge company) and that he and Wendy are very much married. Kenny and Butters genuinely cared about what Stan had been up to, and he found himself feeling the same way. He found but that Kenny had stayed in South Park and married Bebe. They were a strange couple, but very happy. Kenny worked construction and Bebe owned her very own shoe store. Butters lived in Seattle with his wife, who was eight months pregnant, and is the creator of a series of successful comic books entitled _Professor Chaos._

Stan starts to get bored and is on the verge of leaving when Kenny informs him that "Kyle has been eye-fucking him for over an hour".

"Kyle…Broflovski?" Stan asks.

"Well, duh. What other Kyle did we grow up with? Who else would I be talking about?" Kenny wonders.

"I didn't even know he was here tonight."

"He showed up about ten minutes after Cartman left," Kenny informed him. "It's not a coincidence, if you ask me."

Stan searches the room and quickly locates his old Super Best Friend. Kyle is sitting at a table alone, and Stan is relieved to find out that he isn't the only one there who isn't accompanied by a husband or wife.

"He keeps looking over at you. I wonder why he hasn't come over here yet. Kyle's never been shy…" Kenny rambles.

"I'm gonna say hi to him," Stan decides.

"All right, man, go for it."

Stan makes his way over to his old friend and says, "Hi, Kyle. Can I sit down?"

"I, uh, yeah! Of course you can," Kyle replies. He sounds nervous.

Stan takes a seat opposite him and asks, "What's with the late appearance? Kenny told me you didn't show up until Cartman left."

"That wasn't an accident," Kyle says and then asks, "I know he's rich and everything, but how does he look? Is he still fat?" He sounds hopeful.

"Sort of. He's not _grossly _fat any more, but he's still big. He's…husky," Stan explains.

"Oh."

"Don't be disappointed. You look great, so don't even worry about Cartman."

And he did. He still had his red Jew fro and his mother's nose and was a head shorter than Stan, but he had a lot of handsome features. He looked really good.

"Thanks. So do you, but you've always looked good, so no big change there…"

"So, uh, how have you been?" Stan asks.

"Good, I guess. How about you?" Kyle asks and when Stan just shrugs, says, "I heard about Gary. I'm sorry."

"Thanks. Me, too."

"How come you never told me you were gay?" he blurts out.

"What was I supposed to do? You stopped emailing me after I got out of rehab. And you never came back to South Park!"

"There's a good reason for that," Kyle says and casts a dark look around the room. "Listen, do you want to go talk somewhere else?"

"Sure. I'm up for a trip down memory lane. Want me to invite Kenny?" Stan asks.

"Actually, uh, I was hoping we could go alone. I want to talk to you," Kyle admits.

"Oh. Okay, sure."

Stan and Kyle leave and end up at Whistlin' Willy's. They order a large pizza and wait in silence for it to arrive.

"So, uh," Kyle begins, breaking the tension, "what have you been up to since high school?"

Stan tells him everything because Kyle seems genuinely curious and also, he has nothing to do until his pizza arrives. He tells Kyle about Henrietta, AA, rehab, Gary, moving to New York and back, Gary dying, getting depressed (again), therapy, learning to cope with the huge fucking hole in his chest, and finally, coming back to South Park for the reunion. The pizza comes when he is telling Kyle about New York and they eat for the second half of the story.

Kyle has a fair amount of opinions on Stan's life:

"God, Stan, you dated the goth chick?"

"Yes," Stan lies.

"You really _were_ drunk during college," Kyle scoffs.

"Shut up! I was nineteen!" Stan cries. "Besides, she looked really good!" Stan doesn't plan on saying what comes next, but he does. "I saw her at Gary's funeral."

During Stan's entire life story, Kyle cut in with loud exclamations and opinions, but while Stan was talking about the day on the boat and the funeral, Kyle got eerily quiet and somber. He does the same thing now.

"I guess she moved back to South Park to bum around with her goth friends. She told me that being gay was 'totally non-conformist' and that I understood what real pain was, and that I could be a goth again, if I wanted," Stan explains slowly as he and Kyle leave the restaurant.

They walk on the streets for a little while before Kyle finally asks, "What did you say?"

"No, of course. But I might have had sex with her a few…dozen times before I went back to Denver," Stan admits and Kyle gapes at him.

"But isn't she –? Someone told me – Doesn't she sell sex for money?"

"Yeah, but she only charged me half-price because she said I'm a friend."

"How generous of her." Stan pretends not to notice the sarcasm in his friend's voice.

"What have _you_ been up to, Kyle?"

"Oh, uh, nothing, really. I got my writing degree and then went back to college to get a degree for history. I'm a historian now. Maybe I'll write a book when I'm retired and boring and lame," Kyle tells him.

"That's smart. Keep your options open," Stan agrees.

"Then, I got married after college." Shocked, Stan glances at Kyle's left hand. He finds it bare and Kyle says, "We got divorced last year."

"Oh. That sucks. I'm sorry," Stan says and, unable to contain himself, asks, "What happened?"

"I caught her in bed with a black guy from down the street," Kyle says bitterly.

"Oh. Did you two fight a lot?"

"No, we got along really well. But we started dating my first year of college. I guess she just got tired of me," Kyle explains.

"That bitch!" Stan cries and Kyle smiles weakly. "How come you never told me you got married?"

"Jeannette and I were only married for a year. That doesn't count," Kyle says.

"If you say so."

They walk down the streets of South Park in silence for the longest time. Stan's mind begins to wander to the warm bed at his parents' house.

"I had a crush on you in high school," Kyle confesses.

"Really?" Stan asks, surprised. "Is that why you were so dead set against me getting back together with Wendy?"

Kyle grins sheepishly.

"Hey, wait a minute. Why didn't _you_ tell _me_ you were gay?"

"I'm not gay! I was with Jeannette for nine years, wasn't I? I like to think that my high school self as…Stan-sexual."

Stan laughs at this. "I've missed you, Kyle. How long are you staying in town?"

"I'm leaving on Monday."

"_What?_ That's in two days!"

"I know. That's two days too long, if you ask me."

"You have to stay longer! You and Kenny and me all have to catch up!" Stan insists.

"We can catch up tomorrow," Kyle replies.

"I'll miss you," he confesses.

"Maybe you could come visit me sometime. Illinois isn't that far away from Colorado."

"Yeah…maybe."

Stan is twenty-nine when he and Kenny go to visit Kyle in Illinois. Kyle's house is small, but homey and Stan likes it. On the last day of the trip, Kyle pulls Stan aside and asks him if he wants to stay longer. This happens for weeks until Kyle eventually invites Stan to move in with him.

"Sure," Stan says without hesitation.

"Really? You don't even have to think about it?" Kyle asks.

"No. I don't really have anything going for me in Denver."

"What about your friends?"

"I'll make new friends."

"And your job?"

"Fuck my job. My job sucks."

Stan is thirty when he finally agrees to go out with Kyle.

It happens a week before Kyle's 30th birthday. It is supposed to be a surprise party, but Kyle finds out about it and has to pretend to be surprised. Stan and a group of Kyle's friends (he is happy when he finds out he gets along well with them) organized it. None of them are surprised when Kyle finds out.

Stan is thirty-five when he and Kyle get married.

It is, by far, the happiest day of his life.

"You know, Kyle," Stan begins. "After Gary died, I never thought I would feel this way about anybody again."

He tells Kyle this when they get back from their honeymoon.

"Do you wish you were married to Gary instead of me?" Kyle asks.

"Gary's dead, Ky."

"I know _that._ But if Gary had lived, do you think you would be married to him right now?"

"Yeah," Stan admits.

Kyle doesn't say anything.

"That doesn't mean anything," he insists. "Gary died and I moved on. I love you now."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just being stupid."

"Only a little bit," Stan teases.

Being with Kyle reminds him of when they were kids and he feels in love at home. With Kyle, he feels like he's finally where he belongs.

Stan is happy.


End file.
